Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica

Home , Archaeological theory, Dolores Piperno, Feature (archaeology), Geoarchaeology, Historical ecology, Paleoethnobotany

J Archaeol Method Theory DOI 10.1007/s10816-013-9183-6

Christopher T. Morehart & Shanti Morell-Hart

# Springer Science+Business Media New York 2013

Abstract This essay examines the relationship between social archaeology and paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica, a region where paleoethnobotanical research has been growing rapidly. We synthesize Mesoamerican paleoethnobotanical studies that have gone beyond descriptions of subsistence economies, reconstructions of ecological systems, or static lists of identified plant remains. These paleoethnobotanical investigations, we argue, transcend the ecofact to shed light on how human–plant interaction was connected to power, agency, societal structures, and normative constraints—fundamental foci of research in social archaeology. Pulling on current trends in Mesoamerican paleoethnobotany, we show how these social archaeological topics have been addressed via studies of political ecology and ritual. Future advances in social paleoethnobotany are contingent upon methodological innovations in data sampling, quantification, analysis, and integration. We end with a consideration of additional pathways toward a social paleoethnobotany, which includes contributions to understanding materiality, past gender relations, environmental knowledge, and the effect of scale on analysis and interpretations.

Keywords Social archaeology . Mesoamerica . Paleoethnobotany. Ethnobotany

Introduction

This article situates paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica within the perspective of a social archaeology. Within recent decades, paleoethnobotany, the study of human–plant interactions in the past (Hastorf and Popper 1988; Pearsall 2000), has significantly increased in presence in archaeology. More paleoethnobotanical studies are being published and more students are being trained in paleoethnobotany than ever before. In an archaeological world

C. T. Morehart (*) School of Human Evolution and Social Change, Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ 85287, USA e-mail: [email protected]

S. Morell-Hart Department of Anthropology, Stanford University, Building 50, 450 Serra Mall, Stanford, CA 94305-2034, USA Morehart and Morell-Hart dominated by ceramicists, lithicists, osteologists, surveyors, etc., archaeobotanical data long remained largely underutilized. Historically, unless funds existed to hire a consultant or a project member was willing to take on the relatively unromantic and tedious tasks of learning about plant biology and sorting through thousands of tiny seeds, bits of charcoal, pollen grains, etc., the dynamics of past human–plant worlds remained unexamined or were inferred from ethnographic work or ethnohistoric documents. This situation is changing. Beginning in the 1980s, a core group of paleoethnobotanists, some relatively self-trained, have produced a generation or two of students focused on untangling how people in the past used plants to negotiate their social, political, and economic relationships. This process is not just the natural unfolding of archaeological knowledge. Although methodological advancements, emerging theoretical trends, and a new range of questions have created more opportunities for paleoethnobotany than previously, this expansion is also shaped by the historical political economy of academia (see Patterson 1999). More graduate students, but fewer standard research opportunities, and more PhDs, but fewer professional positions, cause students to look for new areas and untapped repositories of data to make their professional identities stand out amidst schools of qualified applicants. Moreover, the number of publication outlets has exploded, offering increased opportunity to rapidly publish work from new perspectives in a growing (and progressively commercial) publication environment in both online and print formats. As a result of these academic, economic, and sociopolitical processes, paleoethnobotany is transforming. Paleoethnobotanists seek to go beyond basic questions of subsistence and environmental adaptation and employ archaeobotanical data to elucidate as many aspects of past social life as any other form of archaeological data (Pearsall 2000). The purpose of this article is to synthesize this growing body of studies that consider plant remains in light of key areas of social archaeology. We center our article in Mesoamerica, a somewhat arbitrarily defined “culture area” that includes most of Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador (Kirchoff 1943;cf.Hamann2002; Demarest 2002;Nalda1990;Fig.1). Meso- america is currently witnessing growth in the number of practicing paleoethnobotanists, well exemplifying the process of change discussed above. However, in a region where academic and popular imaginations have been historically focused on large cities, monumental architecture, and the pomp and circumstance of elite life, paleoethnobotany’s contribution to reconstructing the past is not well known. The very fact that both professional discourse and popular imaginations of ancient Mesoamerica overwhelmingly have centered on the more romantic and macro-scale aspects of past society makes this synthetic review of more micro-scale research all the more significant. Although a focus on Mesoamerica will not be as broad as other overviews of the field (e.g.,Hastorf1999;Pearsall2000), it will gain in depth what it lacks in geographical and temporal breadth. Examining Mesoamerica also will allow us to consider areas and theoretical topics not considered in more localized and descriptive overviews, such as Turner and Miksicek’s(1984) and Lentz’s(1999)essayson archaeobotanical evidence of agriculture and arboriculture among the Maya. Below, we first offer a discussion of social archaeology’s aims in relation to paleoethnobotanical efforts to move beyond the ecofact. We then present examples of research conducted by paleoethnobotanists that have dealt with issues of political ecology and ritual—theoretical areas where paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica has most meshed with social archaeology. Next, we stress how social paleoethnobotany depends on methodological rigor regarding sampling, taphonomy, and data analysis and integration to realize its Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica

Fig. 1 Map of Mesoamerica showing key sites discussed in text with accompanying research reference. 1 Teotihuacan (McClung de Tapia 1977, 1980, 1985;MontúfarLópez1996, 1999); 2 Tenochtitlan (Barrera Rivera et al. 2001; Lopez Lujan et al. 2003; Montúfar López 1998, 2001, 2002, 2006, 2007, 2009a); 3 Xaltocan (McClung de Tapia and Martínez Yrizar 2005; Morehart 2010; Morehart et al. 2012); 4 San Lorenzo (Lentz et al. 2005); 5 Chan Noohol (Lentz et al. 2005;MorehartandHelmke2008); 6 Actun Chapat, 7 Actun Halal, 8 Actun Chechem Ha, 9 Barton Creek Cave, 10 Twin Caves, 11 Tarantula Cave, 12 Actun Nak Beh (Morehart 2005,2001;Morehartet al. 2004; Morehart and Butler 2010;Morehartet al. 2005); 13 Pooks Hill (Morehart and Helmke 2008); 14 Guijarral and Chispas (Goldstein and Hageman 2009; Hageman and Goldstein 2009); 15 Copan (Lentz 1990, 1991; McNeil 2006a, 2006b, 2009; McNeil et al. 2006); 16 Currusté, 17 Puerto Escondido, 18 Cerro Palenque, 19 Los Naranjos (Morell-Hart 2011, 2014); 20 La Joya, 21 Bezuapan (VanDerwarker 2006, 2010); 22 Huitzilapa (Benz et al. 2006); 23 La Quemada and associated sites (Turkon 2004, 2006); 24 Blue Creek (Bozarth and Guderjan 2004); 25 Río Viejo (King 2003) full potential. We end our discussion by suggesting future trends in social paleoethnobotany. Overall, this article is a review of published works that systematically address social processes via paleoethnobotany. We specifically target publications and projects undertaken by paleoethnobotanists. The paper largely omits studies that are more paleoecological in nature and those that are primarily descriptive taxa lists or short sections in larger site reports, even though one may argue that such “laundry list” (Pearsall 2000) reports are foundational to more socially oriented paleoethnobotanical research. This study also omits an in-depth treatment of reports and articles focused exclusively on documenting the origins of particular taxa, the domestication of crops, and the introduction of agriculture. Paleoethnobotanists are pragmatic; our work shifts in focus and depth in response to immediate project needs and broader field interests. Authors of highly descriptive studies have also produced theoretically rich and profound works. Despite their significance, however, more descriptive studies are generally not included in this article.

Paleoethnobotany, Social Archaeology, and the Tyranny of the Ecofact

In an intellectual climate where such terms as “processualism” and “post-processualism” are simultaneously meaningless and rich with signification (e.g.,Johnson2010;Morell- Morehart and Morell-Hart

Hart 2013), the term "social archaeology" may seem to muddy the theoretical waters. This observation is especially relevant with a field that has historically focused on the most basic and material aspects of life: paleoethnobotany. At its most superficial level, social archaeology involves the application of ideas and concepts from social theory to archaeology (e.g.,Hodder2007; Hodder and Hutson 2003; Meskell and Preucel 2007; Shanks and Tilley 1987). Conceptually, social archaeology denotes a particular set of perspectives, diverse in content yet sharing the outlines of a similarly oriented frame- work. In a recently edited volume, Preucel and Meskell (2007:pp.3–4) note that social archaeology goes beyond the archaeological study of social organization or the individual’s position within a particular social milieu: A social archaeology conceptualized as an archaeology of social being can be located at the intersections of temporality, spatiality, and materiality. To take these concepts as a focus of research is to explore the situated experiences of material life, the constitution of the object world and its shaping of human experience. These three concepts, temporality, spatiality, and materiality, are either explicit protagonists or implicit specters in many social archaeological studies. But we argue that these elements of sociality are not intrinsically necessary for a social archaeological perspective, particularly for paleoethnobotanists. Archaeological writing elucidates sociality not simply when it targets the material and immaterial processes of being and becoming but, moreover, when it examines power, agency, and their interrelationships with either social structures (i.e., kinship, class, etc.) or normative constraints (Brumfiel 1992;Hegmon2003). Plant remains historically are classed as “ecofacts.” This term, which virtually every student of archaeology encounters early in introductory courses, covers unmodified biological remains, including plants and animals, whose deposition was the result of human activity (Renfrew and Baun 2000: p. 45; Sutton and Arkush 1996: p. 335). Ecofacts typically are not considered artifacts unless clear indications exist that they were modified (i.e., for tool use). We argue that the term limits the use of archaeobotanical data to understand the past. This classification reinforces a view of botanical remains as secondary to the study of more durable assemblages or as simple utilitarian resources, creating obstacles in how scholars integrate archaeobotanical remains as significant bodies of data into their narratives of the past. It also fosters a research environment in which plant remains are employed exclusively to describe subsistence economies, reconstruct macro-scalar environmental shifts, and document the origins and dispersal of specific or suites of taxa. The term ecofact itself is misleading. Few archaeologists or paleoethnobotanist have recovered plant remains unmodified by human activity. Moreover, many taxa are the product of thousands of years of human–plant interaction, particularly domesticated cultigens. Even the use of botanical data to construct long-term vegetation histories and document environmental impact must confront the anthropogenic nature of past landscapes (e.g., Denevan 1992; Lentz 2000; Whitmore and Turner 2001). As artifacts, plants are collected, processed, used, consumed, and discarded (Schiffer 1987). Compared to other forms of archaeological data, plant remains are shaped by unique depositional, taphonomic, and dispersal mechanisms (see Hastorf and Popper 1988; Minnis 1981; Pearsall 2000). Yet their qualitatively particular pathways Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica through the archaeological record are inadequate justifications to partition them conceptually and interpretively from artifacts. Engaging in social paleoethnobotany requires a move beyond the tyranny of the ecofact and the recognition of plants as artifacts. As we present below, social paleoethnobotanists increasingly examine how human–plant interactions were shaped by peoples’ cultural models of the world and their position within different social relationships. Moreover, as the studies we present demonstrate, social paleoethnobotanists in Mesoamerica examine archaeobotanical remains as connected to social practices situated in time and space, rather than only as broad trends that generalize a people’s economy or ecology. In so doing, they demonstrate plants as necessary artifacts in the structure, reproduction, and transformation of human society. Despite the view of social archaeology discussed above, social paleoethnobotanical interests in Mesoamerica are more in line with what Hegmon (2003)haslabeled “processualism-plus.” Given the particularities of archaeobotanical data, paleoethnobotanists cannot eschew the ecological and economic dimensions of human behavior. Moreover, this characteristic makes paleoethnobotanical studies uniquely situated to trace the intersections of social and ecological systems. Brumfiel (1992) argued that understanding the influence of these two pervasive structural constraints on human agency is a key research domain of more social approaches in archaeology. This trend in social paleoethnobotany also conforms to the social archaeology developed first by Latin American archaeologists to study social and cultural transformation via changing political economies and modes of production (e.g., Armillas 1979; Lumbreras 1984;McGuire1992; Palerm 1980; Rosenwig 2012). As we discuss below, paleoethnobotanists working in Mesoamerica have integrated their pursuit of power, agency, practice, and normative constraint into larger questions surrounding political ecology and ritual. These trends reflect the concerns of social archaeology and provide clear examples of a growing interest in social paleoethnobotany. They also offer guides for future directions to approach questions of gender, materiality, the nature of traditional ecological knowledge, and the scale of analysis and interpretation.

Paleoethnobotany and Political Ecology

Political ecologists study how power relations mediate and shape human interaction with the environment. Intellectually, this approach developed as environmental anthropologists became increasingly aware of the historical trajectories that shaped their case studies, histories laden with power and inequality existing locally and, increasingly, globally (Roseberry 1989;Wolf1982). A common definition of political ecology is the study of cultural ecology, or how human groups adapt to their environments, with the analytical tools and concepts of political economy (e.g., Blaikie and Brookfield 1987;Paulsonet al. 2005: p. 17; Peet and Watts 1996; Robbins 2012). A political economy is the structured distribution of wealth and power in a society (Brumfiel 1992;Hirth1996; Johnson and Earle 2000). Archaeologists typically examine political economies in terms of class relations, surplus production, and the financing of political institutions (D’Altroy and Earle 1985;Earle1997; Feinman and Nicholas 2004;Paynter1989). However, scholars who examine power as bottom-up, dispersed, and imminent in the actions of past people enrich these top-down perspectives (e.g.,Erickson2006; Feinman 2006; Perez Rodriguez Morehart and Morell-Hart

2006; Pyburn 1998;Robin2006). Social groups reproduce political economies locally through economic production and the active engagement with and adaptation to the environment. Political ecology’s contribution to the social sciences goes beyond simply inserting inequality into narratives of human adaptation. Political ecology examines how local groups navigate and “live” (both materially and discursively) forms of power and inequality existing at multiple nested scales (Escobar 1999;PaulsonandGezon2005; Peet and Watts 1996;Rocheleau1999). Consequently, political ecology is a crucial component of historical ecology, which seeks to disentangle the complex, variable, and systemic connections between human and nonhuman agents over time and space (e.g., Balée 2006; Balée and Erickson 2006; Barton et al. 2004; Crumley 1994;Latour2004; Lentz 2000;Zimmerer1994;Sneadet al. 2009; Thompson and Waggoner 2013). The political ecological dimension of social paleoethnobotany represents a major contribution to the broader discipline of ethnobiology. The history of ethnobiology is marked by highly descriptive accounts on the role of plants in specific societies and cultures. This field is dominated in Mesoamerica by research that records the economic roles of specific or entire suites of plants either to document the general utility of botanical resources or to provide descriptions of plant knowledge as a core characteristic of a people’s cultural way of life (e.g., Alcorn 1984; Flores and Balam 1997; Barrera Marin et al. 1976; Gómez-Pompa and Kaus 1990; Vogt 1976). The ethnoscientific study of plant classification further illustrates the cultural and linguistic approach in ethnobiology to access distinctive systems of thought and behavior toward the environment, a field of study with a long history in Mesoamerica (e.g., Atran and Ucan Ek’ 1999; Berlin et al. 1974; Breedlove and Hopkins 1971; Breedlove and Laughlin 1993; Metzger and Williams 1966; Stross 1973). Yet ethnobiologists increasingly identify the need to go beyond the culture concept and recognize the historically contingent nature of human–environmental interaction. As Nabhan et al. (2011:1) observed in a recent commentary in the Journal of Ethnobi- ology,mostresearchhas“side-stepped the examination of the political, economic, cross- cultural and media-driven ‘external’ pressures which have affected not only the natural resources themselves, but the cultural perceptions and uses of them.” By examining shifting political economies across space and deep time, social paleoethnobotanical research on political ecology offers fundamental contributions not only to ethnobiology but to the social and historical sciences. In Mesoamerica, McClung de Tapia’s(1977, 1980, 1985) work on the paleoethnobotany of Teotihuacan likely represents the first effort to examine how political economic processes shaped past plant use (and is perhaps the first example of social paleoethnobotany). Specifically, she examined the relationship between class and status and access to particular kinds of vegetable foods. She compared the proportion of various taxa from Tetitla, an elite apartment compound, and Yayahuala, a more modest compound. Although a greater volume of soil was floated from Yayahuala than from Tetitla, Tetitla samples were richer in both the overall number of seeds as well as the number of identified genera. She concluded that “the habitants of Tetitla seem to have been quite more ‘comfortable’ than those of Yayahuala” (McClung de Tapia 1980: p. 154). McClung de Tapia, however, remained cautious about pushing the data too far and considered the possibility that some of the patterns may have resulted from preservation or sampling. Nonetheless, her work Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica offers a significant step beyond the ecofact and provides an easily replicable way to study class relations paleoethnobotanically. Lentz’s(1991) classic article on class and diet among the ancient Maya of Copan, Honduras is a well-known example of studying political economy via paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica. Lentz conducted an extensive study of the charred plant remains recovered during several years of excavations at the Late Classic period (ca. 600–900 CE) political center. He documented a typical assortment of domesticates, such as maize (Zea mays), beans (Phaseolus spp.), and squash (Cucurbita spp.), but also recovered evidence for arboriculture (Lentz 1990). Like McClung de Tapia, Lentz goes beyond simple statements on the overall diet of Copan to examine internal variation in the archaeobotanical assemblage. He addresses the proportions of specific plant remains as well as the diversity of food remains from mounds inhabited by different socioeconomic segments of Copan’s Late Classic population. Lentz found that larger mounds, representing more elite groups, had a higher diversity of plant foods than smaller, more modest structures. He argues that economic status was connected to differential access to botanical resources, emphasizing the interrelationships between nutrition and social structure. His work showed the potential of paleoethnobotany in tracing complex political economic processes and class relations (despite the vagaries of preservation in the Neotropical Maya Lowlands). Lentz’s conclusions are supported by zooarchaeological and bioarchaeological research both at Copan and at other lowland Maya sites (e.g.,Carr1996;Coystonet al. 1999;Emery2003;Gerry1997; Pohl 1994; Shaw 1999; Whittington and Reed 1997;Whiteet al. 2001). In contrast, King’s(2003; see also King 2008) study of Early Postclassic social organization at Río Viejo in coastal Oaxaca incorporated paleoethnobotanical data to identify an absence of class difference. Her investigations of two households employed phytolith analysis (conducted by Steven Bozarth) and macrobotanical analysis (conducted by Sissel Johannessen) of samples taken from living surfaces and ceramic vessels. She identified locations related to the processing of maize, inferred from the presence of maize cob and leaf phytoliths, and suggested that individual households were economically self-sufficient. The distribution of locally available foodstuffs (including maize, palms (Arecaceae), and hackberry fruits [Celtis spp.]) was similar between household groups. However, households were marked by exotic, non-local materials, including conifers and cacti, demonstrating differential participation in broader economic networks. King argues that ethnobotanical knowledge and practice fostered extra-household cohesion: "cooking food and sharing prepared food on a daily basis, instead of binding residents of a single house together, might have connected residents of multiple individual house structures into larger social units” (2003: p. 356). An equally significant study on the political ecological dynamics of plant resources was published by Cliff and Crane (1989; see also Crane and Carr 1994;Crane1996). These researchers employed both palynological and macrofloral data to examine human–plant interactions at Cerros, a Late Formative center in northern Belize. Residents at Cerros cultivated maize and other domesticates, but their subsistence economy shifted over time. As the polity grew in power between 100 and 150 CE, maize became less abundant in the archaeobotanical record. However, the remains of tree crops increased in frequency, notably nance (Byrsonima crassifolia) and coyol (Acrocomia aculeata). Cliff and Crane interpret these data as evidence of greater reliance on imported tree fruits perhaps Morehart and Morell-Hart exchanged in a marketplace in the site’s central core, which was inhabited by higher status groups. They dismiss the possibility that the change represents elite residents engaged in more intensive arboriculture over time (Cliff and Crane 1989: p. 317). At least by the Late Classic and early Colonial periods, however, elites maintained orchards of useful trees as heritable possessions (McAnany 1995;McNeil2009; Morehart 2005, 2011; Schele and Mathews 1998). Overall, Cliff and Crane’s study integrated complementary botanical datasets to address wealth disparities and transformations over time in the political economy. The use of archaeobotanical data as proxies for trade goods is strangely uncom- mon in Mesoamerica. Local political economies were complex; both market places and market exchange existed and most items obtained at markets likely were organic. In the Maya Lowlands of the upper Belize valley, Lentz et al. (2005) explained the differential distribution of pine charcoal (Pinus sp.) from habitation sites as due to a combination of class and trade. Today, Belize has two broad habitats of pine forest, the lowland pine savannas and the Mountain Pine Ridge of the Maya Mountains. Lentz et al. studied higher and lower status households, determined by architectural size and artifactual elaboration, and found that lower status households had significantly less pine charcoal despite their greater geographical proximity to the Mountain Pine Ridge. Examining a range of other items and resources that may have come from the Maya Mountains, such as slate and greenstone, and ethnographic descriptions of charcoal production and trade, they conclude that pine was a specialized commodity with an elite controlled distribution. Farther from the Maya Lowlands, VanDerwarker (2005, 2006, 2010) studied archaeobotanical data from the Early Formative to Early Classic period Olmec sites of La Joya and Bezuapan in the Tuxtla region along the Mexican Gulf Coast. She documented a dynamic pattern of plant (and animal) exploitation at both sites, which was closely wedded to the seasonal and spatial distribution of resources and settlements. In the Early Formative period, for instance, residents at La Joya were fairly mobile seasonally. But by the Late to Terminal Formative period infield maize production intensified, as measured by kernel-to-cupule ratios of processing behavior. Arboriculture of coyol (Acrocomia sp.) and avocado (Persea americana) also increased. She suggests that this change was directly related to increased sociopolitical stratification in the region, particularly “the rise of regional leaders who likely encouraged the mobilization of maize tribute from farmsteads and villages to political centers” (VanDerwarker 2006:p.114). Yet she also explored the development of differences in the botanical assemblages that indicate the regional political system affected the two sites differently. Residents of La Joya paid less tribute in agricultural products than Bezuapan. Recent work by VanDerwarker and Kruger (2012) reinforces the conclusion that regional political development shaped food production, especially maize. Given inter-site variation in production and the relatively low yield of the maize varieties documented, they propose that maize served as an early prestige good employed during ritual feasting at a key time of social transformation (see also Taube 1996). In documenting the relationship between maize production and political extraction, her conclusions are similar to those presented by archaeobotanists studying sociopolitical stratification, especially in the Southeastern United States (e.g.,Scarry1993; Scarry and Steponaitis 1997; Welch and Scarry 1995). Archaeologists in the New World commonly draw direct connections between maize agriculture and political finance, though these claims are rarely supported via Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica archaeobotanical data such as those VanDerwarker presents. Recently, Morehart and Eisenberg (2010) specifically examined this issue by studying maize remains from the Postclassic period kingdom of Xaltocan and its associated raised field agricultural system (chinampas) in the northern Basin of Mexico. This site developed rapidly from its initial settlement in the tenth century CE and was a powerful polity by the mid-fourteenth century (Brumfiel 2005). Archaeobotanical research in the central community documented an increase in the frequency of maize as the kingdom grew in power and influence (Brumfiel 2005; McClung de Tapia and Martínez Yrizar 2005). Morehart and Eisenberg conducted morphological measurements on several cob attributes to assess the impact of political demands on farming strategies. They documented a dramatic decline in the diversity of maize varieties in the community as the kingdom developed. Morehart and Eisenberg argue that this pattern of change was the result of increased polity reliance on chinampa production and a concomitant increase in the tributary burdens on local chinampa farmers. After the Xaltocan was conquered and eventually incorporated into the expanding Aztec empire in the fifteenth century CE, the diversity of maize in the community increased again. Morehart and Eisenberg suggest the increased diversity indicates that Late Postclassic producers paid tribute to the Aztecs less in maize and more in labor on noble estates, as warriors, or in the production of finished cloth. Turkon (2006) undertook a similar study on maize remains from Classic period (500– 900 CE) sites in the Malpaso Valley of Zacatecas. She conducted morphological measurements on maize cupules recovered from household middens from three hierar- chically distinct sites: La Quemada, which represents a first tier site, Los Pilarillos, which is the second largest site in the area, and El Potretito, which was classed as a third tier settlement. She found that maize from all three sites tends to cluster into three groups based on shape and size, which differ due to a combination of genetic and environmental factors. The larger cupules, she argues, are from maize possibly cultivated in contexts that received more water overall or received more water at critical periods in the growing cycle (Turkon 2006: p. 158). Her key finding, however, was that both the largest cupules and the most distinctively shaped cupules were more abundant in higher status middens. She suggests that elite inhabitants in the Malpaso Valley not only had access to superior maize but also to water and, perhaps, better irrigated land. Turkon’s study recognizes how plants are subjected to the same social processes as other items, such as fine ware pottery, jade, shell, and other sumptuary goods. In fact, her study is of critical importance to understanding class and power in the Malpaso Valley. As she observes: “In the Malpaso Valley, there is a lack of prestige items or significant wealth…limited evidence for craft specialization…and a near-absence of individual burial treatment” (Turkon 2004: p. 228). In tackling this problem, her work goes beyond the study of variation in maize types to include a broader assemblage of food remains (Turkon 2004). By examining diversity of multiple taxa, indices of crop production (i.e.,kernelto cupule ratios), and other artifactual indices related to production and consumption (e.g., groundstone index and serving vessel index), she determined that elite households were less involved in food preparation but had more access to higher value foods, likely consumed via feasting activities. Her study also resists the simple dichotomy between commoner and elite (Turkon 2004: p. 245). For example, intra-site variation in indices of production and consumption at La Quemada, the highest ranked site, suggests different social connections among groups residing at the center. Elite contexts at other sites, such as Morehart and Morell-Hart

La Pilarillos, had more evidence of food preparation, suggesting that feasting played a key role in constructing power and status in secondary centers in the Malpaso Valley.

Paleoethnobotany and Ritualization

A growing body of social paleoethnobotanical investigations employs plant remains to identify, characterize, and understand past ritualized practices. These studies are critical of the utilitarian emphasis in paleoethnobotany that views plant remains only as indicators of ecological settings, subsistence patterns, or utilitarian resources. This line of research has been productive due to the nature of ritual deposits. Archaeolog- ically, rituals are often single depositional events sometimes deliberately placed in sealed, secure, or otherwise unique stratigraphic contexts (but see Walker 2002). Paleoethnobotanists studying ritual stress the symbolic significance of plants as artifacts of ritual experience and as key components in the physical materialization of religious beliefs and conceptual models. Much of this work links archaeobotanical remains with information in ethnographic or ethnohistoric texts as well as iconogra- phy. Further, many paleoethnobotanists go beyond the reconstruction of normative beliefs to examine the sociality of ritual practice, or ritualization (Bell 1992). These paleoethnobotanists argue that religious beliefs structure but do not determine behavior. Ritualization is contingent upon both culture and power, also offering a unique opportunity to incorporate ritual practices in political ecology. Montúfar López’s(1998, 2001, 2006, 2007, 2009a, 2009b)researchonplantsin Aztec offerings represents one of the most intensive, long-term efforts to study ritual using archaeobotanical data. With the exception of descriptive work by Morehart et al. (2012) on floral offerings in the northern Basin of Mexico and González Quintero’s (1986) analysis of botanical offerings in Coyoacan, her investigations represent rare work on ritually deposited plant remains in the region. Although she undertook some preliminary research on plants from ritual contexts at Teotihuacan (Montúfar López 1996, 1999), her work on ritual has occurred mainly in conjunction with excavations adjacent to the Templo Mayor, the twin pyramid to Tlaloc and Huitzilopochtli, which occupied the center of the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan. Archaeological research at the Templo Mayor has yielded an incredible assemblage of ritually deposited items and offerings, stone boxes that contain sacred and rare minerals, flora, fauna, and prestige goods obtained throughout the empire (see López Luján 1993; López Luján 2003, 2004). The assortment of plant and organic remains from these offerings include cotton textiles; seeds of food items, such as maize, beans (spp.), chia (Salvia spp.), amaranth (Amaranthus spp.), nopal (Opuntia spp.), passion fruit (Passiflora spp.), chiles (Capsi- cum spp.), agave (Agave spp.), etc.; flowers; woods; leaves of Mexican willow (ahuehuete, Taxodium mucronatum); branches of mesquite (Prosopis spp.); spines from agave; and resin from incense. Montúfar López approaches these items as windows into the cosmological and religious universe of the Aztecs. She pulls on ethnohistoric data to explore the symbolic associations of these materials, to propose affiliations with particular deities, and even to assess the time in which a ritual may have occurred (Montúfar López 1998, 2002, 2007; see also Sierra Carrillo 2006). She also connects these data to reconstructions of the physical landscape seen from the perspective of the imperial center (Montúfar López Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica

1998). In searching for links between the archaeobotanical record and human behavior, Montúfar López has gone beyond an exclusive reliance on written comparative data and has engaged in ethnographic and ethnobotanical work. She has collected data on rain and agricultural rites as well as the production of copal incense (from Bursera bipinnata) in the town of Temalacatzingo, Guerrero (Montúfar López 2007, 2009a, b). In these studies, plants are not simply material objects of ritual behavior but are, rather, active components of ritualized practice. Farther from central Mexico, palynological research conducted by Rue et al. (1989) at Gordon’s Cave III, in the Copan Valley, revealed evidence of ancient floral offerings dating from the Middle Formative period to the Classic period (see also Brady 1995). Ninety-nine percent of the total pollen recovered was of an unknown taxon. The specimens were composed of thousands of clustered grains, likely representing the anthers of flowers. Although it is possible that the flower pollen was blown into the cave and represents ancient environmental conditions, the fact that this pollen type was found in all stratigraphic levels and the clustered nature of the grains suggests that the ancient inhabitants of the region brought flowers to the cave for offerings. McNeil’s(2006a, b, 2009; McNeil et al. 2006) paleoethnobotanical research on ritual, also at Copan, represents another significant example of using plant remains to document normative beliefs and practices. Her work greatly expands the preliminary research by Rue et al. (1989) and employs microfloral data to study elite ritual in Copan’s civic-ceremonial center. McNeil collected pollen samples from the interiors of tombs and temples. Her decision to study pollen data intensively constitutes an innovative strategy to reconstruct past ritual in contexts where such research is rare. The decomposition of uncarbonized macrofloral material eliminates virtually all visible traces of botanical items used during rituals, an unfortunate taphonomic process given that organic items represent the bulk of ritual paraphernalia, at least ethnographically (see Vogt 1976). Like Montúfar López, McNeil links her identifications of species in the archaeobotanical record to ethnographic and ethnohistoric descriptions as well as to iconographic and epigraphic representations. These comparative data allow her to explore overlapping patterns of meaning through identified taxa. Her interpretations are rich and deeply textured, providing a rare window into a past landscape that was both physical and spiritual. Her documentation of cattail pollen (Typha sp.) in temple deposits suggests the ritual recreation of Tollan or “the Place of Reeds,” the mythical homeland of many Mesoamerican groups (McNeil 2006a, b, 2009; McNeil et al. 2006). Likewise, the discovery of cacao offerings (Theobroma cacao) in ritual deposits allowed McNeil to examine the intersecting associations that connect cacao with political power, death, and the underworld (see also Prufer and Hurst 2007). McNeil’s (McNeil et al. 2010) effort to integrate both the ecological and spiritual landscape of Classic period Copan has also produced significant data on environmental change in the region, contributing to previous studies. Bozarth and Guderjan (2004) also recognized the utility of microfloral approaches in documenting the ritual use of plants. They extracted and identified biosilicates (particularly phytoliths and sponge spicules) from several dedicatory caches at Blue Creek, a Maya center in northwestern Belize. They documented phytoliths from maize, squash (Cucurbita spp.), palms (spp.), bromeliads (Bromeliaceae spp.), agave, and heliconia (Heliconia spp.). Bozarth and Guderjan suggest that these are remnants of offerings of Morehart and Morell-Hart foods and other items. They also found high frequencies of sponge spicules, revealing that items from the ocean were incorporated into the caches. Their goal, however, was not just to identify the materials included in the caches but also to understand how caching behavior was connected to broader ritual practices. Similar to McNeil’s work at Copan, they suggest that the inclusion of specific items in the caches indicates efforts to recreate mythological episodes central to Maya cosmology: “In each of the caches, we see ‘most favored’ elements of each component: the sea, the land and the sky” (Bozarth and Guderjan 2004: p. 206). Their research documents widespread patterns in thought and behavior, given that the caches were recovered from contexts associated with distinctive social strata and in both public and private areas (Bozarth and Guderjan 2004:p.213). Although very preliminary, Benz et al.’s(2006) analysis of organic offerings in a shaft tomb in Jalisco, Mexico explored burial treatment as a reflection of past social processes. They specifically examine vessel contents from the elaborate Huitzilapa shaft tomb, which contained the remains of six individuals in two chambers. Al- though they were not able to identify many of materials from the vessels, they did document the presence of agave fibers, cotton fibers, and a piece of bark paper (possibly from Ficus tecolutensis). Agave fibers were more common, likely due to the regional ubiquity of textiles made from this plant. Cotton fibers, however, were restricted to the more lavish, northern burial chamber, and Benz et al. suggest this reveals a relationship between cotton cloth and higher class. They propose that the bark paper found in the southern chamber indicates that the male individual interred was also of high status, perhaps a scribe. Morell-Hart (2011) integrated micro-floral and macro-floral data to consider ritual practice at several sites in Northwestern Honduras. At the four sites of her study, many plants she identified are referenced in the Ritual of the Bacabs (Roys 1965)as well as other literature that addresses purely medicinal uses. Such plants include avocado, soursop (Annona sp.), achira (Canna sp.), and nance. However, distinguishing foodstuffs from specific ritual plants proved difficult and taxa were identified in multiple functional domains. Morell-Hart instead examined how plants were associated with activities that defy strict subsistence, medicinal, or ritual categories. Morell-Hart (2011) documented ritualized activity, even when items were recovered from non-ceremonial contexts. She found that ritual practice may be inferred indirectly from remains recovered from artifacts used in preparation of ceremonial materials. Bromeliaceae phytoliths were recovered from three obsidian blade frag- ments. She suggests that the blades may have been used to prepare species of this family to adorn perishable altars, a practice described ethnographically. Heliconia and pine phytoliths also were recovered outside of defined ritual contexts. She speculates that heliconias, common shade and decorative plants today, may have had similar roles in ancient times or were used ritually as described above by Bozarth and Guderjan (2004). The pine could be remnants of fuel or torches that were incorporated into ritual activities. Morehart’s(2005, 2011;Morehartet al. 2004, 2005; Morehart and Butler 2010)work in Lowland Maya caves of western Belize represents a regional effort to understand ritual using archaeobotanical data. Focusing mainly on macrofloral material, though also starch grain and textile analysis, Morehart studied archaeobotanical assemblages collected from seven caves in three tributary valleys of the greater upper Belize River Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica watershed. As sites that were perceived to be access points to the underworld, caves offer a remarkable opportunity to understand ritual behavior (e.g., Brady and Prufer 2005). Moreover, preservation in caves is much better than at surrounding habitation sites. Many of Morehart’s interpretations are descriptive and draw associations between particular species and plants used today or depicted iconographically. For example, a complex feature from Barton Creek Cave yielded a spatially structured assemblage of botanical remains, including maize, beans, two species of squash (Cucurbita pepo and C. moschata), chile peppers, cotton textiles (Gossypium sp.), and the charcoal of pine, copal (Protium sp.), and cacao (Theobroma sp.). Similar to the approaches discussed above, Morehart (2011) proposed the spatial organization of the feature’scontents reflects myths about the death of the maize god and his passage through the Underworld. Morehart also undertook an intensive study of charred woods from several cave sites, which revealed the use of trees with rich symbolic meanings. The ritual burning of pine, however, was by far the most common. Morehart et al. (2005) examined possible meanings associated with burning pine ceremonially. Rather than just a simple need for lighting, they propose that burning pine represented a key formulaic act that validated many ritual performances. Recognizing the relationship between commonality and variability in archaeobotanical assemblages is an important step toward documenting ritualization as well as integrating paleoethnobotanical research on religion into political ecology. Goldstein and Hageman (2009) conducted a study that examines how power and agency affected ritual plant use and intersected with normative cultural models. They analyzed macrofloral remains from Guijarral, a local center, and Chispas, a more modest architectural group, in central Belize. Integrating botanical remains with other classes of artifacts, they argue that many of the taxa recovered from midden deposits at Guijarral represent botanical items used in ritual feasting, whereas materials from Chispas’ middens are from everyday domestic meals. They note significant differences in the assemblages between the two sites but find that maize was underrepresented overall. They argue that practices at both sites show similarities in cultural codes on the selection of food and the structure of what constitutes a meal (see Douglas 1970). However, they propose that variations from the ideal represent a process of establishing distinctions between different groups or, at least, specific consumption practices. They conclude that documenting such patterns of variation will allow paleoethnobotanists “to decipher social practices that dealt with negotiation of power and inequality between these sites based on the rituals that their use encoded” (Goldstein and Hageman 2009: p. 438). In a similar vein, Morehart and Butler (2010) documented spatial variation in botanical food offerings between cave sites in western Belize. In some cases, they were able to assess the seasonality and function of ritual by studying the condition of plant remains. Underdeveloped maize remains from Chechem Ha and Actun Chapat, for instance, suggest possible first fruit offerings. Conversely, fully developed maize remains and other cultigens from Barton Creek Cave indicate offerings either after the maturation of fruits or stored crops left as offerings in anticipation of the coming rains. However, at Actun Nak Beh,acavesiteconnectedtoaLateClassicperiod ceremonial center, no remains of domesticated crops were recovered. Instead, the remains of tree crops were found, possibly from orchards controlled and inherited by local nobility. To interpret these differences in offerings, Morehart and Butler employ theories of gift exchange and social debt. They argue that fulfilling perpetual moral commitments to deities was a widespread and necessary act across all sectors of society. But the manner in which such commitments Morehart and Morell-Hart were carried out depended both on the immediate “function” of a rite and on the social position and political power of practitioners.

Methodological Refinement

McClung de Tapia (1980, 1985) was an early advocate in Mesoamerican paleoethnobotany for increased methodological and interpretive rigor. She stressed increasing training, en- hancing integration into overall project research design, more effectively combining archaeobotanical data with other forms of archaeological materials, and improving commu- nication between specialists (McClung de Tapia 1985: p. 148). Historically speaking, however, little discussion on method has occurred between paleoethnobotanists working in Mesoamerica, particularly on sampling, processing, preservation, and quantification. Increased attention to method is critical if social paleoethnobotanists are to address the kinds of questions central to social archaeology convincingly. For macrofloral research, no universally recommended size for flotation samples exists, as all research contexts differ (Pearsall 2000). However, the reasons behind particular sample sizes must be made explicit. Given good preservation in caves in the Maya Lowlands, Morehart (2011) recommends 1-L soil samples, which is ideal when researchers have to transport them long distances through the jungle. However, 1-L samples might be too small in most habitation sites given poor preservation. Morell-Hart (2011), for instance, recommended 40-L samples for higher recovery rates in Northwestern Honduras. Sampling strategies also vary (see Bohrer and Adams 1977; Lennstrom and Hastorf 1995;Pearsall2000). Blanket sampling strategies, in which samples are recovered from every excavation level and/or stratum (Pearsall 2000), are useful if the nature of the site and its deposits are not known. But such sampling should be modified as excavation progresses, calling for close collaboration with paleoethnobotanists in the field. Moreover, more spatially systematic sampling within household contexts can reveal variable patterns of production and consumption critical to reconstructing social practice in daily life (e.g., Bohrer and Adams 1977;Bogaardet al. 2009; González Quintero 1999;Hastorf1991; Lennstrom and Hastorf 1992; VanDerwarker, et al. 2007). Hageman and Goldstein (2009) offer a systematic report on archaeobotanical sampling in Mesoamerica. They compare both flotation and dry screening as two approaches to obtain macrobotanical remains. They found that neither recovery method is intrinsically better than the other but suggested both techniques should be implemented together. Hageman and Goldstein do not assess the condition of the plant materials themselves, however, and a comparison of recovery rates and relative abundance of carbonized versus uncarbonized seeds is useful to distinguish culturally versus naturally deposited material (see below). Such taphonomic and contextual issues need to be considered, especially to avoid positing cultural interpretations for intrusive items (see Schiffer 1987). Criteria are needed to eliminate potentially intrusive seeds or to identify seeds that were deposited naturally in the past (McClung de Tapia 1985;Minnis1981). In tropical areas, organic remains typically do not preserve unless they are carbonized or are from special contexts. Any non-carbonized items should be noted. Morehart (2003), for example, observed that many small seeds in Late Postclassic and Colonial deposits in northern Belize are likely naturally occurring components of the seed rain (past and present) Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica produced by Neotropical bats. Uncarbonized examples of these taxa are likely intrusive, but even carbonized specimens should be treated with caution. Furthermore, greater research is needed to utilize archaeobotanical data to define the functional nature of contexts themselves, especially, but not exclusively, in the case of ostensible ritual deposits (Morell-Hart 2011). In addition to the condition of recovered remains, the nature of their depositional contexts needs to be established. Lentz (1991), for example, noted the possible effect of different kinds of architecture on plant preservation at Copan. Wyatt (2008)documented substantial pine charcoal in samples from agricultural terraces in the Maya Lowlands and argues that the pine is from hearth ash redeposited in fields to enhance soil fertility. Pine charcoal also was very common in chinampa samples from Xaltocan studied by Morehart and Eisenberg (2010) and may reflect similar practices (Morehart 2010). Morell-Hart (2011) encountered several taphonomic and depositional complications during her analysis of possible ritual plant use at sites in Northwestern Honduras. Often materials recovered from burial contexts appeared to have been mixed with other non- ritual matrices, such as construction fill, and included charred bits of foodstuffs more commonly found in associated middens and occupational debris. Data quantification is critical if paleoethnobotanists are to go beyond descriptive “laundry lists” of flora (Pearsall 2000; Popper 1988;VanDerwarker2010). Most of the studies discussed above quantify floral remains either via absolute counts, weights, or ubiquity measures. Morehart (2011) offers a detailed summary of the strengths and limitations of different ways to quantify data. Turkon (2004)andVanDerwarker(2006)employratios, such as kernel to cupule indices, to infer differences between consumption and processing. VanDerwarker’s(2006, 2010) work probably represents the most systematic treatment on data quantification in Mesoamerican paleoethnobotany. Miksicek (1991) employed a coding system to facilitate wood identification at Cuello in northern Belize, an approach that could possibly help document species diversity in situations where species themselves cannot be identified. Mesoamerican paleoethnobotanists are also carefully documenting the morphological variability of maize remains recovered, not only to help identify the possible types of maize present but also to address social processes via statistical measures of assemblage variability and diversity (Benz and Iltis 1990;Benz1994, 1999;Lentz1991; McKillop 1994;Miksiceket al. 1981;Morehart2011; Morehart and Eisenberg 2010; Rust and Leyden 1994;Turkon2006; Villa Kamel et al. 2003). The identification of more diverse forms of plant remains is perhaps one of the most significant areas for social paleoethnobotany. Most archaeobotanical research centers on the analysis of seeds and fruit remains. Although challenging, the identification of wood charcoal can reveal new dimensions of human–environmental interaction (see Adriano- Morán and McClung de Tapia 2008; Hockaday and Lentz 2009;Lentz1991;Lentzet al. 1996a;Lentzet al. 1997; Miksicek 1991; Morehart 2011;Morehartet al. 2005;Robinson and McKillop 2013; Smart and Hoffman 1988; Trabanino et al. 2012;Wyatt2008). Advances in micro-floral research have proved instrumental in studying the origins of domestication and agriculture in Mesoamerica (e.g.,Jones1994; Perry and Flannery 2007;Pipernoet al. 2009; Pohl et al. 1996;Pohlet al. 2007;Popeet al. 2001;Ranere et al. 2009; Rust and Leyden 1994). The study of starches, phytoliths, and pollen from soil samples or residues from vessels and activity areas also offers the potential to document micro-level human practices beyond the reach of macrofloral remains (Abramiuk et al. 2011; Bozarth and Guderjan 2004; González Quintero 1986;King2003; McNeil 2006a; Morehart and Morell-Hart

Meléndez Guadarrama et al. 2013; Morehart 2011;Morell-Hart2011; Perry and Flannery 2007;Pipernoet al. 2009; Ranere et al. 2009;Rueet al. 1989;Sheetset al. 2011; Sheets et al. 2012;Simmset al. 2012;Wyattet al. 2012). The application of chemical analysis to residues on artifacts has been employed to identify possible incense (Morehart 2011; Stacey et al. 2006), maize consumption (Seinfeld et al. 2009), and the presence of cacao on ceramic vessels (Hall et al. 1990;Hendersonet al. 2007;Hurstet al. 1989, 2002;Powiset al. 2002, 2011; Prufer and Hurst 2007;Solerietal.2013). Expanding the spectrum of botanical data is part of a broader process toward increased archaeological data integration, one of the most important areas where paleoethnobotanists can move beyond the ecofact. Paleoethnobotanists are dependent on other archaeological remains to establish chronology and context, and virtually all the studies presented above follow this path in some way. But more paleoethnobotanists in Mesoamerica are directly incorporating other lines of data into their work on human–plant interactions. Hanselka (2011) integrated macrobotanical materials (some from curated collections) with settlement pattern analysis, ecological survey, and ethnographic and ethnohistoric evidence to devise models of human–plant interactions. VanDerwarker (2006, 2010) integrated macro-floral remains with both faunal remains and stable isotopic data. VanDerwarker and Peres (2010) edited a highly useful volume on methods toward integrating paleoethnobotany and zooarchaeology. Morehart and Helmke (2008) examined patterns of co-variation in wood consumption practices and artifactual evidence for weaving, namely the distribution of spindle whorls. Turkon (2004)andRust and Leyden (1994) compare various indices of consumption and production using both artifactual and archaeobotanical data. Morell-Hart (2011), Morehart (2011), and Simms et al. (2012) studied microfloral remains from artifact surfaces specifically to clarify artifact function.

Additional Pathways Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany: Materiality, Gender, Knowledge, and Scale

Although we have stressed studies of political ecology, ritual, and methodology, many future paths exist for social paleoethnobotany. Studies on the ritual use of plants, for example, open the door to issues of materiality and even object-oriented approaches to the past. By examining the meanings associated with plants used during rituals, paleoethnobotanists are well positioned to consider the unique biographies of botanical resources. These biographies are easily ignored when archaeologists treat plant remains exclusively as indices of ancient diet or environmental adaptation. Rather than mere ecofacts, plant remains are artifacts with rich histories. McNeil’s(2006a, b) research on cacao, Morehart et al.’s(2005) examination of pine, and Montúfar López’ (2006) analyses of a range of floral offerings inform us on the unique life histories of the plant world and offer interpretive strategies to undertake such endeavors. To document people as active participants in their social and political worlds requires a more contextual approach, the recognition of variation within and between households and other sites, and often more fine-grained forms of data. Goldstein and Hageman (2009) suggest that we can use plant remains to disentangle the structural models that shaped food and meals. Employing linguistic models of paradigmatic and syntag- matic practice, Morell-Hart (2011) takes this approach further to examine unique cultural logics underlying commensality and their dynamic relationship with daily Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica activities. Her work shows how past people made fine-grained decisions about food preparation not only to follow convention but also to negotiate social relationships. Although many of the studies presented here address transformations or persistence in the use of plants, future studies could examine how plants themselves transform or reinforce meaning. Given that plants are components of ritual practice, arguments can be made for plants as nonhuman agents—not just as receptacles of meaning but as active constituents in the creation of meaning (e.g., Rival 1998; see also Brown and Emery 2008; Brown and Walker 2008). Plants occupy spaces that other material objects do not (food, intoxicants, fuel, incense, etc.), and the deliberate inclusion of plants in social practices signals their active, and potentially transformative, role. Published studies that specifically treat gender in ancient Mesoamerica from a paleoethnobotanical perspective are scarce. In an edited volume on gender in archaeology, Morehart and Helmke (2008) studied archaeobotanical remains from two sites in western Belize, Pook’s Hill, a high status plaza group, and Chan Noohol, a small community of farmsteads. They analyzed the distribution of wood charcoal to place doubt on assumptions of universal gender roles and to question the biases inherent in ethnographic data. They reject the idea that particular genders necessarily undertook particular tasks, such as collecting firewood. Instead, they argue that household members’ labor and the nature of ecological knowledge depended on how the household was embedded in a broader political economy. This dearth of paleoethnobotanical research on gender is surprising for three basic reasons. First, there is a rich archaeological literature on gender in ancient Mesoamerica (e.g.,Ardren2008; Brumfiel and Robin 2008;Joyce2000). Although some treatments of ancient gender in Mesoamerica have mentioned plant remains, archaeobotanical data are typically secondary or tertiary in importance (e.g.,ClarkandBlake1994). Second, models of how to examine gender paleoethnobotanically already exist. Hastorf’s(1991) classic article of imperial conquest, foodways, and gender in the Andes represents not just the canonical study of plant remains and gender but is also a key paper that pushed paleoethnobotany toward social archaeology. Third, ethnographic and ethnohistoric descriptions of gendered behavior suggest distinctive aspects of plant management, production, processing, and consumption are often gendered. However, variations in these accounts resist efforts to suggest ahistorical gender roles existed (e.g., Ardren 2008; Brumfiel and Robin 2008; Joyce 2000;Brumfiel2006). Given such a multitude of archaeological studies, paleoethnobotanical research on gender is doable and must be done. The intricate study of ecological and botanical knowledge is a pervasive strength in Mesoamerican paleoethnobotany and provides a thread that connects many works. Reconstructing past environmental knowledge also articulates the social paleoethnobotanical research discussed previously with studies focused on more descriptive accounts of subsistence and ecological adaptation. Paleoethnobotanists in Mesoamerica have documented complex forms of ethnobotanical knowledge and practice involving diverse taxonomic assemblages, such as arboriculture, forest management, the cultivation of root crops, and the strategic adaptation to diverse habitats by single settlements (e.g., Beltrán Frias 1987;CliffandCrane1989;Crane1996; González Quintero 1999; Hanselka 2011; Hather and Hammond 1994; Houston 1983;Lentz1990, 1999;Lentz et al. 1996a, b, 2012; Meléndez Guadarrama et al. 2013; McClung de Tapia and Aguilar Hernández 2000; McClung de Tapia et al. 1986; McClung de Tapia and Martínez Yrizar 2005; McKillop 1994, 1996; McNeil et al. 2010; Miksicek 1983, 1986, 1990, 1991;Morehart2003, 2011; Morehart and Eisenberg 2010; Parsons et al. Morehart and Morell-Hart

1985; Popper 1995; Sheets et al. 2012; Trabanino et al. 2012; Turner and Miksicek 1984; VanDerwarker 2005, 2006, 2010;Wyatt2012;Wyattet al. 2012). These studies allow archaeologists to go beyond what Wobst (1978)referredtoasthe “tyranny of the ethnographic record,” an exclusive reliance on ethnographic and ethnohistoric analogies to reconstruct the past (see also Conkey and Spector 1984:p. 13). This approach can lead to what Sluyter (2005)referredtoas“recentism” when employed to reconstruct past environments and ecological knowledge. The application of ethnographic analogy unevaluated by archaeobotanical data, limits archaeologists’ abilitytodocumentchange—a “continuity-centric” perspective (Morehart and Helmke 2008: p. 62) that posits the environmental practices produced via centuries of conquest, Colonialism, national marginalization, and progressively global neoliberal policies and strategies as transhistorical models across space and time. There exist “systematic variations in the knowledge available to and taken up by various social groups set in particular regions and times” (Thrift 1985: p. 397). As a historical discipline, paleoethnobotanical projects on past systems of environmental knowledge directly respond to Nabhan et al.’s(2011: p. 1) recent criticism that “ethnobiologists have continued to describe the communities in which they work in some harmonious ‘ethno-ecological present.’” They offer an unparalleled opportunity to historicize research on traditional ecological knowledge. Rather than romanticize the past and valorize concepts like indigeneity, tradition, and culture, paleoethnobotanists document variation over time and space, including successes, failures, and, significantly, the impact of political economic transformations on ethnobiological and ecological knowledge and practice. By inserting history and, hence, material reality, into environmental research, these scholars contribute directly to historical ecology’s aims to understand sustainability, resourcefulness, and resilience and to apply archaeological knowledge to contemporary crises and challenges. Continued research on environmental change and subsistence economies also must address the effect of scale on paleoethnobotanical investigations. Scale—spatial, temporal, and social—infuences our interpretations in several significant ways and raises a number of important questions. How generalizable are paleoethnobotanical interpretations? Although much social paleoethnobotany attempts to stress variation, a continued risk exists that findings will be used to reinforce temporally static depictions of past society, particularly with work on ritual and gender. It is possible to over-particularize one’s case study and conclusions, preventing the understanding of long-term and widespread trends in organization, thought, and practice. How can micro-level and practice-based approaches on plant use be integrated into macro-level socio-political and environmental histories? This challenge highlights the notion of the “ecological fallacy” in environmental research. Environmental studies increasingly incorporate several lines of data that exist at varying spatial and temporal scales, from global climatological information to ethnographic and historical records to archaeological material. The fallacy lies in the assumption that data operate similarly regardless of scale (Harris 2006). One correction to this fallacy is to recognize that data and the scale of interest are conditioned by specific research questions. Thus, for example, the internal structure of food processing behavior may be highly relevant to understanding household and community structure, even in response to broader changes in a social, political, or ecological milieu. But such details may be less relevant for a study seeking to reconstruct historical or evolutionary changes over several Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica centuries or more. Quantitatively altering the scale of analysis and interpretation, generates new questions by changing the spatial or temporal unit’s qualitative capacity to convey (and contain) information. A social paleoethnobotanical perspective offers a related caution. Given that archaeobotanical remains are remnants of socially determined behavior, what limitations exist in using these data to produce accurate large-scale environmental reconstructions? At what point does the socially fragmented and culturally contingent nature of peoples’ relationships with the botanical world become generalizable enough to characterize entire regions and their shifts over time? This challenge is especially pronounced in studies of ecological change and deterioration. Frequently, such research offers interpretations of environmental data without corresponding theories of behavior [see, for exception, Robin- son and McKillop (2013) application of behavioral ecology to archaeobotany in the Maya Lowlands] or ignores the cultural and historical factors governing and mediating plant use. Addressing these issues is critical, considering the importance of plants across all aspects of life. With more social paleoethnobotany, these questions can be better considered and integrated into the fabric of interpretations. In order to create common threads between the works we discuss, we deliberately did not partition off the archaeological study of food. Obviously, however, several of the studies we discuss involve the social, political, and economic dimensions of foodways. Archaeologists study food as an active component to past life (e.g., Dietler and Hayden 2001; Gosden and Hather 1999;Hastorf1991; Hastorf and Johannessen 1993;LeCount 2002;Twiss2012; van der Veen 2003). Food “achieves more than the satisfaction of dietary needs, it is a rich source of insight into many aspects of cultural life” (Hastorf and Johannessen 1993: p. 115). Due to the intimate and diverse ways in which food is integrated into our lives as a source of subsistence and strategy, the analysis of food practices offers particular insight into understanding social dynamics. Thus, social paleoethnobotanical projects included in this essay examine the cultural, political, and economic factors that shaped the production, exchange, and consumption of food (Goldstein and Hageman 2009; Lentz 1991; McClung de Tapia 1977;McNeil2009; Morehart and Butler 2010; Morehart and Eisenberg 2010; Morell-Hart 2011; Turkon 2004, 2006; VanDerwarker 2006). One of the critical aspects of food practices is their symbolic capacity (Weismantel 1988). Foodways are incorporated into the multivocalic trajectories through which people habitually and forcefully negotiate their positions in society. Food practices can become markers of social identities such that people who eat strikingly different foods or similar foods in strikingly different ways are thought to be strikingly different (Mintz 1985: p. 3). Thus, the same processes whereby social identities are forged also can polarize and engender conflict (Weismantel 1988:p.10). Following the initial work by Goldstein and Hageman (2009) and Morell-Hart (2011), future paleoethnobotanical research in Mesoamerica can study contextual variation in botanical assemblages to document the use of food in the strategic definition of social identities and boundaries.

Conclusion

This article has presented a synthesis of current research on social paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica. In recognizing plants as artifacts, not simply as ecofacts, paleoethnobotanists Morehart and Morell-Hart are positioned to contribute to several major themes of social archaeology. Many studies have focused principally on patterns of change in subsistence economies and in human– environmental interactions. Complementary to these studies, new paleoethnobotanical investigations have focused on the domains of power, agency, and normative constraints by asking questions about political ecology and ritual. Sampling and data quantification are essential to address social archaeological questions, and paleoethnobotanists increasingly collaborate with archaeologists or, as archaeologists, now undertake their own field projects. The studies we presented offer insights on how to approach and analyze botanical assemblages quantitatively and reveal great strides in documenting diverse forms of plant remains, such as woods, starches, pollen, phytoliths, and residues. Integrating archaeobotanical datasets with other forms of archaeological remains expands the range of issues paleoethnobotanists can address and, moreover, further pushes scientists beyond the ecofact. Although the majority of social paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica has centered on political ecology and ritual symbolism, a social archaeological perspective should be intellectually transformative and cause paleoethnobotanists to reflect upon the nature of their research and the scope of their interpretive frameworks. By reconstructing the unique social biographies of the botanical world, paleoethnobotanists can address the intersecting materialities, temporalities, and socialities that people and plants co-occupy. Paleoethnobotanical investigations of social organization need to more explicitly target the changing role of gender relations in the past. Archaeobotanical datasets documenting past systems of environmental practice reveal variability in time and space, allowing archaeologists to move beyond ethnographic analogy and demonstrate how past people strategically responded to shifts in the social, political, economic, and ecological fabric. Such investigations also may have implications for public policy (see Minnis 1985, 1991;Morell-Hart2012). Methodologically, these emergent research agendas must examine how the scale of research questions and interpretations mesh with the physical characteristics of datasets. By doing so, archaeologists and paleoethnobotanists can better work together to produce compelling narratives of the past across different scales of time and space. Any effort to recover, identify, and interpret plant remains from archaeological sites has intrinsic merit, considering the enormous role plants played in past lifeways. But increased focus on power, ritual, gender, knowledge, and scale is transforming the field of paleoethnobotany, and this essay synthesizes this movement in Meso- america. As protocols and techniques improve and data recovery increases, so too must sampling strategies and theoretical approaches be more finely attenuated to the Mesoamerican landscape. Only by training more paleoethnobotanists can we appreciate the full spectrum of human–plant interaction in the Mesoamerican past and present.

Acknowledgments This paper developed via a long conversation between the two authors and several paleoethnobotanists who have established the field and demonstrated its application to social archaeological topics. We would like to acknowledge foremost individuals who have provided guidance and mentorship to us over the years, especially David Lentz, Emily McClung de Tapia, Christine Hastorf, Dolores Piperno, Emilio Ibarra Morales, Cristina Adriano-Morán, Diana Martínez Yrizar, and David Goldstein. We also are grateful to Deborah Pearsall, whose canonical text, Paleoethnobotany: A Handbook of Procedures, has long occupied a cherished place on our shelves. We greatly appreciate the instruction provided by the editors of the Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory as well as the comments of Amber VanDerwarker and anonymous Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica reviewers. Megan Parker and Cristal Bender assisted in compiling the bibliography. Omissions or erroneous interpretations of the studies we review are our responsibility.

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